The Expo Was Just Decoration - 5
Just as Duke Kilanas’s waist was about to fold past ninety degrees and sink toward a full one-twenty, Later’s timely intervention let the duke straighten his back once more.
"Duke Kilanas. As a junior walking the path of magic myself, I understand your feelings completely, but right now I would like to introduce my friends."
"Ah, my apologies, Your Highness. In my joy I lost my senses and committed a rudeness."
Even so, the way he truly startled looked genuine. It was fascinating. I had never been close to magic, so whenever other mages praised Trixie I only felt a vague sort of awe; yet watching a duke of an entire nation behave like this made me feel as though I were staring at a sky above the sky. Even when the empire had been a mess before the Retired Emperor’s ascension, perhaps it was Trixie who had kept the whole thing from collapsing.
"I am only now greeting the person to whom Your Highness is indebted. I offer my sincere apology for the discourtesy, Count Tailglehen."
"Please raise your head, Your Grace. There is nothing that requires an apology."
I shook my head as Duke Kilanas bowed to me with perfect formality.
An apology for discourtesy? He hadn’t come on some strange errand, nor had he bothered me in the slightest. Simply arriving as an ordinary guest was already more than mannerly and proper enough.
"Besides, as a martial man myself, my heart still races whenever I meet my first father-in-law, who raised his own renown so high. I understand Your Grace’s feelings completely."
"The count’s kindness only makes it harder to lift my head. I am grateful."
Fortunately my sincerity seemed to reach him; Duke Kilanas’s expression eased as he inclined his head once more.
It was a courteous gesture, yet it still felt a little burdensome. Having someone both higher in rank and older than me act this way made me feel like some upstart pup who had forgotten his place.
Still, refusing the apology would only leave the duke more awkward, so I endured it. I could not afford to sour relations with a heavyweight of Uben simply because I felt awkward.
Duke Kilanas, who had appeared out of nowhere, departed on an expedition through the expo with Later. Of course a mage’s instincts would not let him leave Trixie’s side so easily—
"Would it not be better to remain at the Academy for a few days and converse with Trixie? A debate between the great mages who represent the empire and Uben could advance continental magic by leaps and bounds. As one living in this age, I find myself looking forward to it."
"If such a thing were possible, nothing would bring me greater honor…"
"I do not mind. The distance between the empire and Uben has made it difficult to encounter Uben’s magic in ordinary times."
At those words he vanished with the most serene, blissful expression imaginable. Since they had agreed to hold a productive discussion once booth hours ended, he would spend the intervening time quietly on his own.
"Even a duke is just another mage in front of Trixie."
I muttered the thought while watching Duke Kilanas and Later’s retreating backs. Of course an imperial duke is ranked above a kingdom’s duke, yet even if Trixie had been a mere baron, Duke Kilanas would still have performed that grand bow. Authority that transcends titles—impressive in its own right.
"It is possible only because elven blood flows in my veins. The mages who showed me respect could have reached my position as well, had they possessed the same lifespan."
Trixie smiled and shook her head at my muttering, but the humility carried little persuasive force.
If long life alone could produce archmages like Trixie, this continent would belong to the elves rather than humans. Apels would never have set fire to the World Tree; the imperial palace itself might have turned into a sea of flame instead.
"Even if I lived ten times longer than my former master, I still would not be confident of becoming like her."
I was not the only one thinking so. Rory, arriving with a plate of cookies, softly smiled and countered the claim.
Yes—Trixie’s power was not merely the product of longevity. The blood of the great magical house of Catovan, the blood of the magic-specialized elven race, and finally Trixie’s own personal talent had fused into a once-in-an-era height. Longevity alone could never reach it.
"Heh. Do not say such things. The only mage who can succeed me is my disciple—you."
And Trixie, apparently pleased by the praise, gently stroked Rory’s hair.
Come to think of it, Rory was the original protagonist and Trixie’s sole disciple. Truly, the next Lord of Magic of the coming age might well be Rory—
Trixie will keep improving too.
Unfortunately, while Rory climbed to Trixie’s present level, nothing said Trixie herself had to stand still.
I found myself wondering just how far Trixie would go if she continued polishing her magic for another three or four hundred years of life. Even something like space-cutting or a roar that controlled time would start to feel believable.
"That’s right. It has always been the disciple who can succeed the master."
While I was lost in solitary thought, Mar, who had been sitting in a chair, carefully approached our group.
My heart lurched for an instant before I forced it back down. The words If you need something, just call—don’t move yourself had nearly burst from my throat. I had almost treated Mar like a critical patient who must never be allowed to walk.
"Uh, Sister! If you need anything, please don’t move—just tell me!"
The words I had swallowed were spoken instead by Rory.
Yet watching from the side rather than being the one who said it left me a little embarrassed. She wasn’t doing strenuous exercise; she was simply walking, and yet we reacted as though the sky were falling. Was that how I looked to others?
Thank you, Rory. Mirror therapy works wonders.
"Cheonnuni said she wanted to be with her little mothers."
At Mar’s half-joking words, Rory—who had been rushing toward her—flinched.
The monumental first child of House Crassius wanted to be with them; what could anyone say against that? It was an irrefutable, perfect justification.
"Ah, Cheonnuni wanted the cookies Mother Rory made—"
"Here!"
Rory snatched the plate that had been in front of me and offered it to Mar with a face full of subtle excitement and joy. Being able to feed Cheonnuni cookies she herself had baked clearly delighted her.
Nice to see.
I had been robbed of my snack in an instant, yet I felt no resentment. From Rory’s perspective Cheonnuni was her husband’s child, not her own blood. Still she treated the girl like her own and moved for her; how could I not be happy?
In truth I had worried that, with six wives, the children might also split into six factions. Looking at the scene before me, at least, that possibility seemed low.
…Six factions inside one house.
Even imagining it for a moment left me dizzy. Wives checking one another, children quarreling among themselves—turning the place that ought to be the warmest and most peaceful of all into hell.
Perhaps that was why sudden respect for the Golden Duke welled up inside me. The man had twice as many wives as I did and still ran his house without the slightest noise. A hero who made wives and in-laws rally around him instead of checking one another.
There was even a grim rumor that the Golden Duke had more children than retainers. If the chance arose, I would have to ask him for advice on being a good patriarch.
Hm?
Just as I reached for one of the cookies Mar was holding, a sense of wrongness struck me.
"Mar? Where did Ainter go?"
The familiar blond head was nowhere in sight. He had definitely been here when Duke Kilanas left with Later.
"He said just a moment ago that he wanted to look around the other booths and stepped out."
"Ah."
The unexpected answer made me flinch. With the other club members already scattered, I had been about to tell Ainter to go enjoy himself as well; I simply hadn’t expected him to find his freedom on his own.
Or had he simply read the room and slipped away because only my lovers and I remained at the booth? Given that Ainter was relatively normal, the hypothesis seemed highly plausible.
"I feel like I chased the club members off for no reason. They’re probably having more fun than we are."
Looking around the empty booth, I felt like the bastard who invites his girlfriend to a shared flat and kicks the roommate out. I hadn’t meant to, yet there was no bigger bastard than me.
"You did chase them off, didn’t you?"
"Misunderstanding."
When I protested with complete sincerity against Trixie’s joke, Mar and Rory both chuckled.
How unfair. Not a single wife would believe this husband’s innocence.
Though the other members had left for voluntary or involuntary reasons, we ourselves could not abandon the booth. Even if there were no customers, closing early would leave a bad impression—as though we had swaggered out because we already knew we were first place.
So we stayed at the booth instead of touring the expo, yet spending quiet family time together kept the wait from feeling stuffy or dull.
"Spending the last expo with Oppa and my sisters makes me so happy. I might come as a guest next year, but I won’t get an experience like this again."
Rory said it with a bright little laugh.
Understanding that feeling well enough, I stroked her hair. Just as she said, this expo was the last schedule where all of us could gather and do something together. Starting next year we would be outsiders to the Academy.
"When the word ‘last’ is attached, even a familiar experience starts to feel different."
Trixie nodded, apparently sharing Rory’s sentiment, and spoke.
"So you may look forward to the last school trip as well."
Then she added a meaningful remark.
On the Academy calendar the next big event after the Club Expo was indeed the school trip, yet why was that coming from Trixie’s mouth? It didn’t sound like idle talk; she seemed to know something.
"Ah, that’s right. I heard about it from a junior a little while ago too."
Even Mar clapped her hands lightly, showing she was already in the know.
What? Something even Academy graduates knew, yet a currently serving Academy inspector did not?
"This year’s school-trip destination is the Cervez Grand Duchy, isn’t it?"
…?
"Personally I would have preferred Ulken, but Cervez is a fine place as well."
"I believe Ulken will be next year."
Watching Mar and Trixie continue the conversation so naturally, I turned my gaze to Rory.
Thankfully, Rory looked as though she were hearing it for the first time.